PS 

am (=-(— 

K74a W 







C y. 



I § !a 2 4 ftp |$ and I" 10 f Iian 9 cs °f S"™*- 



MISS TECLA, 

MISS BIANCA, 

DE. GRAEFFE, 

EDWIN, his Son, 

ALFRED,' Friend of Edwin, and 

Brother of Bianoa. 
Students, j WEBSTER, CLAY, 

' SUMNER, SCHURZ. 



THE HONORABLE SENATOR 

SCHOENLEIN, 
MRS. SENATOR SCHOENLEIN, 
MISS GUTIG, Aunt of Bianca, 
HERONIMUS LUCKY, Esq., 
A. EMSIG, Esq., a retired Millionaire, 
JULIA, Maid Servant in the house 

of Senator Schoenlein. 



WILLIAM E. F. KRAUSE, 

^UTHOR OF VARIOUS ^OETICAL AND OTHER WORKS IN THE 
^NGLISH AND pERMAN L-ANGUAGES. 






<ft'M 



SAN FRANCISCO : 

PRINTED BY JOSEPH WINTERBURN & COMPANY 

417 Clay Street, between Battery and Sansome. 
1873. 



At* 



Vy 







Class r b 2 , /-L 

Book ' K~]-7-2 ~ 

Copyright N° 



COPYRIGHT DEPOSIT: 



BIANCA. 



A PLAY OF THREE ACTS AND TWO 
CHANGES OF SCENES. 



The Scene of the first two Acts is located at Oakland, in Dr. 

Merritt's beautiful Garden, near the Lake. 
The Scene of the third Act — A Drawing-Boom at the Residence of 

the Hon. Senator Schoenlein, in Martinez. 



THE ACTRESSES AND ACTORS. 



MISS TECLA, 

MISS BIANCA, 

DK. GRAEFFE, 

EDWIN, his Son, 

ALFRED, Friend of Edwin, and 

Brother of Bianca. 

o (WEBSTER, CLAY, 

Students, ■{ 

I SUMNER, SCHURZ. 



THE HONORABLE SENATOR 

SCHOENLEIN, 
MRS. SENATOR SCHOENLEIN, 
MISS GUTIG, Aunt of Bianca, 
HERONIMUS LUCKY, Esq., 
A. EMSIG, Esq., a retired Millionaire, 
JULIA, Maid Servant in the house 

of Senator Schoenlein. 



THE FIRST ACT. 

Almost immediately upon the somewhat elevated shores of Lake Merritt, which are 
here adorned with a number of weeping willows, at the time in their luxuriant 
light-green foliage — a romantic spot, where two young iadies of remarkable love- 
liness, who have ingeniously escaped their girlhood but upon the last ball of the 
preceding winter, as so handsomely arranged by Messieurs the Alumni, are 
busily engaged gathering nimophilas, and those sweet little rose-colored star- 
flowers which, in sisterhood with the so-called Maiden's Hair, are the pride of 
the Flora of California. At the same time these aforesaid charming young 
ladies converse together most happily as follows : 

Tecla (a beautiful bloucle, gently addressing her friend) : — Bianca ! 
how you are lost in reverie ! 

Bianca (a lovely brunette, generally with extraordinary vivacity in 
her graceful manners — touched to the quick ) — Oh, Tecla ! you 
frighten me ! 



Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1872, by William E. F. Krause, 
in the Office of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington. 



Tecla (laughing) — Thou art born to be beloved. 

Bianca (quickly) — -What a comprehensive consolation ! 

Tecla (changing color) — Alas ! these charming flowers ! they re- 
mind me of Krause's latest poem on Pacheco. How delightful it 
must be there, at this time of the year ! 

Bianca (to herself, almost inaudibly, and very diligently gathering 
clarkias) — Only now, and now only, do I know that I love him — dearly, 
passionately love him. The most remarkable scenery, friends, flowers, 
in reality, everything, leaves me inanimate — completely so — without 
him ! 

Tecla (calmly) — Oh, do let us entreat of our parents to visit that 
beautiful city ! 

Bianca (quickly looking up at Tecla) — Dear Tecla ! pray excuse 
me — what did you say ? 

Tecla (calmly) — Well, simply, we shall visit Pacheco. My father 
never refuses me anything which I anxiously desire ; and I shall beg 
of Mr. Waldsworth to telegraph at once. 

Bianca (gracefully rising, and in high glee) — Pacheco did you say ? 
—you want to visit Pacheco ? Alas ! there I have often been . In 
those neighboring hills it is so beautiful ! and in our own Martinez, 
where Edwin searched for sapphires. [Instantaneously embracing 
Tecla] — Do come — come as quickly as you cam 

Tecla (kissing Bianca) — How sweet you are ! 

(The two young ladies take their bouquets, and, in the happiest mood imaginable, 
hasten away. 

Breaking through the low-hanging-at-this-time-of-the-year, densely-leaved boughs 
of one of the aforementioned weeping -willows, appears a gentleman in the prime of 
life, with the gun upon his arm. Deliberately advancing, he lays clown the gun 
upon probably the identical spot which the young ladies had just left, and says) : 

Dr. Graeffe (calmly and thoughtfully)— Edwin ! Edwin! My Ed- 
win has got exactly the same passion to look for sapphires, and as 
yet, unfortunately, not find any. Nevertheless, he is quite right — all 
the treasures of the globe are to be found in California. Only labor, 
perseverance, and moderation in everything, and everybody becomes 
rich. Strange ! who can that lady have been ? Such a voice ! so me- 
lodious, sweet, and clear, like a silver bell. Perhaps a child ; more 
likely, however, a diamond, which Edwin has overlooked while his 
eye was intently fixed upon detecting the beautiful dark violet-blue 
of the sapphire. [Pensively] — Oh, man ! thou gatherest treasures — 
inanimate pebbles; but leavest unnoticed the ever-living and inspiring 
love. 



3 

(The Doctor sits down, while his eyes search for an unhindered view over the blue 
waters of the gently-rippled lake into the distant hills, passing in the direction 
of Mr. Newton's handsome bowery of happiness, in order to enjoy with unspeak- 
able delight the panoramic view of one of the finest landscapes which Nature 
has ever bountifully designed to please a feeling heart.) 

How grand ! how superb ! How happy should every one be who, 
in good health of body and soul, resides in California ! What more 
exalted wisdom than to comparatively acknowledge the fact, and to 
fully and gratefully appreciate it ! A thousand dollars for a grand 
picture of this scene by Wandesforde, Campion or Watkins! And how 
gladly would I take a hundred shares in a steam-ship line which 
should land the German immigrant direct from Hamburg in San Fran- 
cisco, or via Aspinwall either, so long as New York is avoided, which 
is always kind enough to extend the hospitalities of the city and 
neighboring villages to immigrants an indefinite length of time. 

(Suddenly rising, walks to and fro, and says) : 

Edwin — most likely I shall cure him. No more is the glaucoma 
of the eye a dangerous defect than is the glaucoma of the soul ; 
which latter my experience of the world shall fathom thoroughly. 
Sickness of the soul, provided the pulse is otherwise quiet, I cure in 
my own simple way, with sugar-coated pills. To love, and to marry, 
are two verbs which a young gentleman of nineteen years of age 
generally conjugates incorrectly. 

(Again sits down.) 

Alas ! this identical first love, although unforgetful through life, 
the idiom of the soul's pre-existence — a divine creation, like the ]3etal 
of a flower, by which the botanist recognizes the species — the fullest 
realization of the ideal of life, its highest spiritual flight, its most 
blissful imagination — how rarely, after all, does that love sanctify 
possession ! Nevertheless, this first love, as being the most priceless 
gift from Heaven, shall serve us as an undisputed, therefore an ines- 
timable dowry to our real happiness, taking up its abode within the 
heart, upon the sacred threshold of which sweet indelible reminis- 
cences of the past strew the blue forget-me-not, in order to be for 
ever revered as the faithful guardian upon all our terrestrial wan- 
derings. 

In its first awakening, mirrors itself the dawn of the happiness of 
life, directing the heart to find the paths which lead towai'ds it. Yet 
those paths, upon which happy youth makes a confidant of the gentle 
zephyr — oh ! they are almost always lost upon the endless plains of 
life. When, at the hand of Time, the sky becoming overcast, youth 



is maturing - into manhood, and is energetically and untiringly climb- 
ing over the rough boulders of ambition, then it is in particular the 
poet, the artist, and the composer of symphonies, to whom those 
heavenly paths, amidst their own storms of life, remain recognizable 
to some extent, accountable for only by the choice of their spiritually 
delightful avocations. Those gentlemen, then, are prepared to con- 
duct to the theatre not alone their own, but the deeply-affected hearts 
of a general fashionable audience, rejuvenating love to the civilized 
world at large from the very boards of the stage. 

(The Doctor suddenly stoops down, and picks up a small piece of gilt-edged paper, 

and reads ) : 

" ON PACHEOO. 

" Wreath 'd with sweet flowers thousandfold. 
Art cozily hid by loving May ; 
Playful children do betray thy gold, 

And proud antlers of a stag's array" — etc., etc. 

(Smilingly) — Now it is clear the young lady is in love. 

(Rising) — And Edwin, in all probability, likewise. 

(Upon which the Doctor moved on, but had only gone a few steps when he observed 
two young gentlemen at a distance, adroitly getting over a fence and advancing 
towards him. The light color of the uniform of the Alumni, with its golden 
epaullettes glistening in the morning sun, enabled him to at once recognize his 
son Edwin in one of those elastic figures who were making for him at the rate of 
2.40. Up to his safe arrival, the Doctor had got time enough to hold the follow- 
ing soliloquy ) : 

It will be the best way to send Edwin traveling next year, after 
his term at college is over. Another country — another love. The 
parental home being too circumscribed, a young gentleman ought to go 
and see the world in order to become thoroughly acquainted with it, 
and be properly accomplished ; — like the fruit, which, only when ripe, 
tastes delicious and refreshes. 

In such a condition, he ought to marry, lest he may fall off the 
tree of life priceless and nearly useless, having become worm-eaten 
and picked by birds. Very similar to the eagle, which, in his aerial 
nights, sees nothing but the earth ; and to which a lamb, black or 
white, before a palace or a hut, is but a lamb : so man, endowed with 
reason, should honorably care for his family, with an all-sacrificing 
love and devotion, by means of his own industrious labor, performed 
either mentally or manually, according as individual capacity is de- 
veloped ; and not merely labor for and protect the same, but fully 
comprehend that the general solution of the grand problem of social 
life, which alone exhibits ju'Ogress prominently and is subordinate to 
the lawful rules of civilization, is found foremost in marriage. 



Edwin (approaching, and saluting - his father while yet at a dis- 
tance) — Dear father ! we intended to surprise you, and hoped to find 
you, surely, in a canoe. "We would have swam towards you, that is 
certain. 

Dr. Graeffe — Pray, my dear son ! this is no lake for you to swim 
in. Not merely ducks rusticate here, but young- ladies take an airing. 

Edwin (abashed) — Dear father ! pray what have you shot ? 

Dr. Graeffe — Well, not exactly ducks, and fibs, you know, I don't 
make ; but a sapphire I have got, which I shall keep, most certainly. 

Edwin (amazed, at the same time changing color) — Oh, father ! 
you joke, I am sure ! Here ! Sapphires ? 

(Embracing his father, and looking him fondly in the face) : 

Alas, father ! do speak ! Tell me all about it. Have the kindness to 
show me that treasure. 

The Doctor (laughing) — Now, that wouldn't be quite advisable 
yet. For the present, calm yourself, my son ! What is mine, is thine; 
and a secret is a treasure as well. 

Alfred (who had in the meantime approached, says, suddenly) : 
Doctor ! we looked for you to ask permission to continue our studies 
of mineralogy in the vicinity of Martinez. 

Dr. Graeffe (pleased) — Ha, ha ! you are an amateur too ! Why 
not ? California is rich in precious jewels. 

(Cordially shaking Alfred by the hand, he added, jocosely) : 

Your mineralogical cabinet must have become very conspicuously 
beautiful ! 

Alfred (abashed) — Doctor ! I will confess that it is highly at- 
tractive to be pleasantly engaged in such a search with friends. 

Dr. Graeffe (nodding): — Isn't it? I am completely convinced of 
it, my boy; in fact, have been equally enthusiastic while at your age, 
especially when in really delightful company. Besides, it is quite 
natural, and Edwin has now got the same taste. 

Alfred (gracefully): — Edwin and I have got very similar tastes, 
which explains our friendship. 

The Doctor (shouldering his gun, whispering): — I do declare those 
are gentlemen. Such men one may as well confide in at once; how 
hugely their minds have expanded. Man is visibly maturing. Ear- 



6 

nestness and dignity, the foremost ornaments of a Chesterfield, are 
truly theirs. 

About to go away, the Doctor put his hand into his pocket, drew forth his port- 
mannaie, and cheerfully presented Edwin with five twenty-dollar pieces — at the 
same time shaking both gentlemen by the hand, saying:— 

Amuse yourselves, and return soon and in good health. My dear 
Alfred, present my compliments to your parents in Martinez, if you 
please. Apropos ! how many brothers and sisters have you got? 

Alfred (politely): — My brother Rudolph, who is at present travel- 
ing in China, and my sister Bianca. 

Dr. Graeffe, (interested) — Indeed ! Your brother in China ? that 
is novel. Very likely a merchant ? 

Alfred: — I beg your pardon, sir. My brother is studying the 
language there, which my father thinks has become of very great 
importance to be made thoroughly acquainted with. My father bases 
his opinion upon the fact that steam having, so to say, annihilated 
geographical distances, affords to the civilized world a long desired 
opportunity of recognizing the barbaric one, in order to prove there, 
upon the sj)ot, its superiority over the other, by apjolying its powerful 
principles of charity on all occasions which the vast commerce of the 
two countries affords so admirable an opportunity of practicing to 
mutual advantage. 

Dr. Graeffe: — Certainly a timely idea, and decidedly a far more 
intelligent one of endeavoring to know the language of a nation of 
four hundred millions of living people, the commerce of whom is highly 
important and of direct use to us, than to waste proportionately, pre- 
cious time upon studying Greek and Latin, in order to fathom the 
philosophy of defunct nations, by the more than laborious and costly 
aid of the knowledge of their literature. Besides, the advantages 
derived from the latter being of a theoretical nature only, are neither 
practically applicable nor useful to the present enlightened age, ex- 
cept in comparatively isolated instances. As to the heroic deeds of a 
Csesarean epoch, they may be a serviceable study for aristocratic 
Europe, but not for us in free and intelligent America. 

We have long ago eschewed feudalism, and learned to care 
for nothing but the love of God, by the sunshine of a clear con- 
science, and then directly — for ourselves individually and collectively; 
by which practicable application of wisdom, strictly within reach of 
reason and eyesight, we value life and liberty, wealth and health, 
labor and time, and are twofoldly happy by enjoying life, and re- 
maining ahead of the world, in all reasonable probability, for ever. 



Dr. G-raeffe (suddenly) — And Miss Bianca ? 

Alfred — My sister I have brought with me ; she shall remain here 
with Mr. Waldsworth, who is a very kind gentleman, and a great 
friend of my father. 

The Doctor (softly, and with a lovely rebuke) — And you have not 
got her introduced to us! 

Alfred (abashed) — It appears her friend, Miss Tecla, has taken 
possession of her altogether. 

The Doctor (much interested) — And, pray, who is Miss Tecla ? 

Alfred (frankly) — Her parents reside in Grass Valley ; her name 
is Mallwitz. (Continues, elated) — Dear sir, Miss Tecla plays superbly 
on the piano ! 

The Doctor (continues, likewise highly pleased ) — Does she, in- 
deed ? Why, that is important, to be sure. 

Alfred (delighted ) — I assure you, dear sir, Miss Tecla possesses a 
talent so very conspicuous, that there is at Schubert's music-store, in 
Clay street, nothing sufficiently difficult for her to overcome. She 
has even astonished Professor Hartmann, who frankly declares, that 
after her studies shall have been completed, she may well rival in ce- 
lebrity the two accomplished Misses Laemlein. Already she excels 
in her execution all the gifted scholars at Waldsworth, and various 
professors — for instance, Messrs. Holstein, Seib, and Delventhal — are 
deeply impressed with the wonderful richness of her performance and 
the precocity of her talent. 

The Doctor (softly and friendly) — My dear Alfred, you will 
promise me one thing — that you and your dear sister, as well as her 
friend Miss Tecla, will pay us a visit as soon as possible, and as often 
as you may be pleased to do so. Mrs. Graeffe will likewise be happy 
to make your acquaintance. As to Mr. and Mrs. Waldsworth, they 
will no doubt approve of it. Of course, I shall personally endeavor 
to conquer from those friends the necessary permission, for form's 
sake. It is doubly pleasing to me that the young ladies are so well 
cared for. And in regard to the aforementioned professors of music, 
they are well known as being highly competent to fully develope the 
brilliant talents of the young ladies. 

Alfred — Dear sir, I cannot refrain from thanking you, in the 
name of all of us ; and joyfully assure you, that we shall very much 
appreciate the honor of being permitted to visit your home. 



Edwin (a little impatient) — Oil, father ! now do permit us to call 
at Mr. Waldswortlrs, and request that gentleman to telegraph at 
once, that we be authorized to take the ladies with us. 

The Doctor (quickly) — Above all, have the young ladies consented 
to go ? 

Alfred — Oh, Doctor ! we shall beg very hard. 

Dr. Graeffe — Well, then, do hurry ; it is already nine o'clock. 
The carriage I shall have attended to. John shall drive. 

Edwin and Alfred (joyfully) — A thousand thanks ! We shall be 
quick — so very quick ! 

Edwin (suddenly) — Father ! allow me to carry your gun. 

Dr. Graeffe (while handing him the gun, the powder-flask and 
shot-pouch, laughingly) — The caps I shall keep. A passion to hunt 
might disquiet you. 

Edwin and Alfred (saluting the Doctor, walk quietly away, 
saying) — Good-bye ! 

Dr. Graeffe (looking after them) — Ah ! happy love ! charming 
spring of life ! Oh, may its dream last through it ! The deeper the 
soul is inflamed, the longer the time ere the fire of love is extinguished. 
Its all-consuming element destroys the allurements of a fast life, con- 
ducting youth safely over the dangerous, badly-matched cliffs of un- 
known shores, leading towards his future thorough happiness ; ena- 
bling him, in due course of time, to prove himself to be a man by the 
strength of his fortitude, which he may be called upon to display 
while suffering from the disappointment of the realization of his ear- 
liest, fondest, and dearest hopes. 

In this love, which has first germinated from the care of worthy 
and loving parents, rests securely the great power of morality ; its 
ideal fondly embraces the almighty Creator, in child-like innocence — 
the world, with joyful looks and generous confidence. Invigorated 
by hope, it never dies — is eternal as the soul itself. 

Yes, that's it ! I shall afford him every reasonable opportunity of 
finding with his Bianca a heaven upon earth. Sure of her los r e, he 
will not grieve so much at parting next year. Stimulating his honor, 
as that love does, to carve out for himself an honorable career, that 
image impressed upon his heart may indeed prove a great instrumen- 
tality by which he will be powerfully assisted in attaining to and 
reaching a probably great eminence in life ; at the same time pre- 
venting him from listening to w T hat is vicious and bad, and wasting 
his leisure hours upon what is useless and frivolous. 



Woe to those parents who endeavor to suffocate and destroy the 
first, this heaven-inspired love in their children, by bartering heaven 
to earth with purely worldly stakes of interest — thus exposing the 
true and lasting happiness of their own children to the dire, abject 
poverty of their souls, through all the future of their lives. 

Above all, I must consult my wife. Her look is sharp — she will 
be particular in knowing Bianca. 

(Suddenly) — Certainly, it is all right ! They must all come to my 
house before they can leave for Martinez. (Walks off.) 

{The curtain falls.) 









10 



THE SECOND ACT. 



(The same scenery as before, during the first act.) — You suddenly listen to loud 
singing in an opposite direction to which the Doctok had departed and are not 
disappointed in finding four students promenading arm in arm singing: 

Gaudiamus igitur 
Juvenesdum snmus 
Habitare fratres, 
Fratres in unurn, 
Unum et jucundum, 
Unum et jucundum. 

The gentlemen having at last arrived upon the same spot as mentioned before, dis- 
perse around the same and rejoice vociferously, in ecstatic admiration of the 
magnificent panorama which presents itself to their views upon which says — 

Webster — I should very much like to know where Graeffe is! 

Clay— Hav'nt you heard ? He shall continue his studies at Berlin ! 

Sumner — Likewise Schoenlein, who is said to have got relatives 
there. 

Schurz — As to myself I should prefer studying Bismarck. 

Clay — And I to receive from him the vow of a Republican. 

Webster — As I do not only admire his plans for unification, which 
makes me regard his patriotism, I should but like to impress upon 
his heart the duty of tolerance; of aiding to lift up the masses to 
liberty and happiness. 

Schurz — Especially now as the way to it is apparently made free. 
In a political atmosphere as at present purified, the old feudal spirit 
of caste will soon wane amid so abundant a development of the mind, 
and the debris be hurled in true student's manner, as if it were 
witchcraft, into the old ivied ruins of their distenanted castles. 

Sumner — The ' ' soon " I am afraid we have to give a large margin 
to! 

Schurz — Merit paves its own way, presented by capability as 
derived from the divine mind, and duly brought forth, expanded and 
offered to sight by the aid of free and good schools; it is ever cor- 
rectly weighed by justice, which, like the Creator, never slights any- 
thing, not even a worm. 



11 

Sumner — But who is it that exercises justice in monarchies? Pray, 
is it man or the aristocrat ? Do yon intend blaspheming the Creator ? 
rank an aristocrat among His creations ? — the idea ! Whenever you 
shall have detected, by aid of your telescope, the stars upon his breast 
reflecting meteor-like within the milky way upon the canopy of heaven 
and the broad daylight, arousing all creation to life shall have shown 
him to you unembossed by patronage and power; valued by merit 
only, placed by merit only and paid by merit only, thus personally 
aiding to progress and happy within his mind of having done naught 
but his duty to his best ability, honestly toward God and mankind, 
then, sir, and then only, after man has found man, mayest thou rest 
firmly assured of the justice of God dispensing His mercies im- 
partially. 

Schurz — Germany is moving in that direction. 

Summer— Sounding the alarm ? 

Clay — At least, you'll admit that she has conquered for herself 
and Europe a long and lasting peace, and will now sow and reap — 
manufacture and make money. 

Sumner — With the knapsack upon her back, and the sabre dang- 
ling at her side. 

Schurz — An old, superannuated fashion from Paris. 

Sumner — Then you had better introduce the Dolly- Varden. 

Schurz — In such a manner did Socrates answer Alcibiades. 

Sumner — And by far more impressively did Washington answer 
General Howe. 

Schurz — Our international policy is not the foreign policy of mo- 
narchical governments. 

Sumner — So much the worse — so much the more deplorable ! be- 
cause it proves, beyond a doubt, that the monarchical form of gov- 
ernment as based upon force abroad — and within, prevents the full de- 
velopment of morality among the people, as consequent upon pre- 
scribed liberty ; besides offending the common sense of a people who 
have advanced to the right of being styled a civilized nation. The 
idea that the Government only has got an undisputed right of shield- 
ing the country against invasion, and of maintaining order within, 
implies the presumption of a belief that the people, of whom they 
themselves form the minority, cannot do it. More than that, it lays 
bare the utter selfishness of the principle of aristocracy, as arrogating 
to itself the absorbance of the inalienable rights of man— his indus- 



12 

try — his free-will ; in short, is retarding instead of advancing prog- 
ress. No better proof of this than America : that all civilization is 
dutifully subordinate to one great truth ; and that is, the lawful re- 
spect for personal liberty. We have demonstrated this truth to Eu- 
rope for the last ninety-six years, quite quietly ; and, at last, have 
made it quite lively by it. 

Schurz — I cannot but quote history, which shows the necessity of 
self-defense and self-preservation. 

Sumner — Bah ! Feudal times ! 

Schurz — Well, then, do take the latest facts. 

Sumner — The power of France over Europe is crushed, which ends 
the feudal times ; besides, has at last succeeded in convincing the 
world of the impossibility of settling difficulties of any kind by the 
aid of murderous shot, without either shocking the civilized world, or 
drawing forth, in all its force, the revenge of the barbaric one, as 
consequent upon the exercise and indulgence of fury. If that was 
not an admitted fact, the mythological Mars would be again consid- 
ered infallible ; the people, thus oppressed, continue to live and die 
in abject poverty ; and the republic, the only guarantee of the social 
happiness of a civilized nation, be again suspended for an indefinite 
length of time. 

Inasmuch, however, as we do not strictly value republics only as 
civilized nations, although we never sympathize with monarchical 
forms of government, as for ever abjured in 1776, we are nevertheless 
bound by the principles of charity which pervade our institutions, to 
interest ourselves at all times in the welfare of mankind ; never des- 
pairing to see the remotest cannibal redeemed to civilization. Of 
course, we do not interfere politically abroad ; because we do not pre- 
sume to follow the fashion of operating uj)on the reason of man after 
his soul has already fled to heaven in the tug of wars. All we can do 
is to exercise our moral influence u]3on civilized nations as to disar- 
mament, and to make it obvious to all the world, by the constant pros- 
perity of our own republic, that it is the only form of government, 
in a civilized age, which guarantees peace as an invulnerable shield to 
the liberty of man. 

Clay — The mind which applies steam so intelligently, and has 
learned to interpret nature more wisely than before, is not only de- 
veloped much stronger to day, but paves the way for its own happi- 
ness and that of all mankind much more certainly than was accom- 
plished in the past ; which makes it reasonably sure that man, -with 
such a genius, shall at least understand how to succeed lawfully in 
freeing himself from oppression all over the civilized world. 



13 

Sumner — Listen, Clay ! If you commence to talk of the myth of 
the commencement of the world's progress in refinement, and are at the 
same time aware that Europe maintains to-day, by the sweat of its 
brow, about five millions of soldiers ready to do battle, fully with- 
drawn from the peaceful pursuits of labor, I am afraid it will re- 
quire many years before it is in the power of the people there to set 
man at liberty, and to guarantee his happiness. 

Schurz — A new era dates from the time of the last war, in which 
Bismarck has dissolved the balance of power as wielded through 
the principles of the monarchical form of government, and bril- 
liantly and strongly coated over with the varnish of hereditary aris- 
tocracy—with the powerful spiritual essence of a general and compe- 
tent education. 

Sumner — The form is changed, but the substance is not dissolved., 
by any means. 

Clay — By-and-by [quotes Liebig] "The principle of republic- 
anism being charity, the exercise of which constitutes the nobility of 
the soul, it becomes evident that such an intellectual and moral 
power must not only eventually, but speedily, succeed in subjugating 
what is eminently physical and coercive." 

Schurz — Bismarck allows himself to be sternly led by history 
while he firmly faces the presence. Historically he knows the 
French, and practically he now concentrates free from preventives 
of a serious kind, the whole Germanic race, as monarchically domi- 
neered over by distinct dynasties, in order to create a numerical 
strength, so vast that it must forever prove a safeguard against the 
re-occurrence of wars, by the very force of circumstances. Such a 
state of things will also prevent France from listening a third time 
to her own monarchical adherents, who have twice upset the republic, 
and would try it a third time if not foiled as above. Thus, inten- 
tionally or not, Bismarck takes into hands the cause of true humanity, 
as America views it and thereby is, of course, furthering Republican- 
ism, whether or not. Possessed of too brilliant a genius, it is not 
reasonably to be apprehended that he should not be aware that 
public opinion in all Europe is now rising to vigorously attack the 
honor of the aristocrat, and to surely conquer the strong Achilles in 
the heel. 

Sumner— You don't say, as if the world didn't know it before. 
'Pon honor, Lieutenant, when the aristocrat shall have been cured 
of hallucination, as Schiller has it, the " Wahn " shall have plainly 
recognized himself in mirror, and shall have correctly understood the 



14 



great doctrine of resurrection, then and then only are you right, is 
Achilles conquered in the heel. Up to that time, however, which is 
somewhat veiled by future and procrastinated, by the study of Punic 
wars, and other superlative anti-liberal Alices will he do if 
you let him, try, saber in hand, to pronounce himself infallible, pro- 
claiming by the roar of the cannon that force is reason and reason a 
farce. (Laughing) — Let us rather sing as melodiously as we can, 
Yankee Doodle, and thank the host of hosts that we live happily in 

free America. 

(All are singing Yankee Doodle.) 

Webster — How sacred our oath of 1776. 

Clay — It is an addendum to religion, in which the soul recognizes 
the imperishable happiness of life under the vaulted canopy of heaven. 

Sumner — Approaches all mankind kindly and peaceably, with one 
hand fraternally sympathizing with the unfortunate and with the 
other rejoicing at the happiness of the fortunate, banishes hate, re- 
venge and murder, honors the person, his merit and his right; and 
finds heaven upon earth in a clear conscience. 

Webster — 

Honors the fair sex, fondles the child, 
Guardest sweet joy, blissful so wild, 
May fall not a prey to veil'd future. 



Clay- 



SCHURZ 



Sumner- 



Webster — 



Clay — 



Victorious is fidelity, 

Sacrifice o' love's sincerity, 

In each triumph of the rising sun 

Sorrow shall wane which we have begun. 

What would remain of civilization ? 

Of the spirit of the times, progress of a nation? 

Naught but to cover well an animated mass 

Of body perishable in its tenement of glass; 

For that life's breath does lift you at each step anew 

That thou mayst see a heaven's love renew. 

It's our purpose thus to please the Deity, 
That from under archways high in liberty, 
We honor friendship for His sake . 

Continue unabatingly to educate. 



To steadily ennoble. 

Webster — Did one so appeal feelingly and directly to the courage 
and dignity of the world, it would bring about a second grand migra- 
tion of peoples in spite of all Bismarckian policies. 



15 

SCHUEZ 

Who inherit there the German name? 
Shall heir be to the Hindoo's train, 
And convert him, the cannibal forlorn, 
By the one word "truth " that he is born. 

Earthquakes and science having divided the earth into five distinct 
parts, whom should spring find there to salute ? 

Webster — We had better salute our spring by migration to Tubbs' 
HoteL What do you think ? 

(All are singing): 
" Edite, bebite collegiales, 
Post multa secula pocula nulla. " 

Sumner — Good ! and the Grand Central Park being close by, we 
have at once one of the most handsome retreats in this earthly par- 
adise ! 

Clay — And the earth being round, we may as well afterwards con- 
tinue on to Temescal, where at Gataneo's, the friend of Garibaldi, we 
can study astronomy and gastronomy in a highly satisfactory manner. 

Schurz — Friends ! how charming is friendship ! how ennobling 
true tolerance ! Like flowers upon the meadow or mountain top, 
should man meet man, peaceably ; and like flowers in a well-culti- 
vated garden should civilized people greet and befriend each other 
with true brotherly affection. 

Clay — The most charming of all forms of creation are the ladies. 

Webster — Beyond a doubt ! Comparable only to the sun, with its 
revivifying warmth. 

Clay — You are in love, Webster ! 

Schurz — You are in hopes, Webster ! Hope, sister of presence, 
conducts happiness safely through the garden walks of civilization 
into the bowery of nuptial bliss . 

Sumner — Even if storms prevail, the garden walks remain, and 
you— 

Clay — Friend ! we are, happily, too young to know anything of 
sorrow, and too careless to desire its acquaintance. 

Webster — Friends ! I shall rely upon my own luck — love, and 
sleep soundly in the arms of Morpheus until the daybreak of my pre- 
destined happiness. 

A Voice (from behind the tree) — "A faint heart never won fair 
lady " from Providence yet, Agassiz ! 

(All four friends disappear instantly in the direction of that voice from behind a 
densely-leaved willow tree.) 

(End of the Second Act.) 



16 



THIRD ACT. 



A drawing-room at the house of the Hon'ble Senator Schoenlein, in Martinez. 
Mrs. Senator Schoenlein, reclining in an arm chair, and using sal- volatile, pen- 
sively : 

Biartca, I think, will accept hini ; indeed, she ought to say, Yes. 
The chances with Edwin are too risky ; it'll take altogether too long 
a time before he is in a position to support a wife. Does'nt even 
write regularly — at least, not during the last eighteen months. Be- 
sides, he remains in Europe too long to please me much. 

On the other side, Bianca ! years fleet fast and past. One summer 
chases another, until it is autumn by way of a change. She is like a 
rose in full bloom, with its odor sweetest — but so only in a garden ; 
it graces no heart, adorns no bouquet, delighting no one but the 
passer-by, and even him accidentally ; it is, in fact, at the mercy, 
more or less tenderly, of the gardener, attracting no especial attention 
except from humming-birds and butterflies. I, as a mother who 
dearly loves her child, should prevent my rose from wasting her 
sweetness on the desert air, especially in California, where there is no 
excuse for any one not being led to the hymeneal altar. 

As to their respective characters, it is my opinion they do not har- 
monize at all together. Bianca is all life, and very fond of society ; 
Edwin, sentimental and calm, bordering upon dullness. While, if I 
take our new visitor, Mr. Lucky, I must say, he appears altogether 
more suitable. Although neither very handsome nor remarkably 
entertaining, neither young nor sprightly, he is at least equally ele- 
gant and genteel. Besides, and above all other accessory qualifica- 
tions, he is a marrying man — for the moment, rich ; it is probable he 
will remain so. 

" Nil desperandum !" he will say in Latin, and in English "Never 
despair ! " and he is right. The idea, though, that he avers he loves 
Bianca, after having seen her but once, is somewhat eccentrical, at 
least funny ; although quite enough to awaken a lively interest in 
Bianca, and to astonish me ; — as if I didn't know better than that an 
experienced gentleman of his standing should not have harbored the 
sweet sentiment of love in his dear heart before ! Who his first love 
ma}' have been, of course, remains veiled by the past. It is of no use 
for me to try to find it out. Upon being remonstrated with, he would 
very politely say, "Gone ! " and sigh deeply — and I be as wise as I 
ever was. 



17 

(Using- sal-volatile)— Ob, what shall I do ? It concerns my child— 
her happiness through life is at stake. Well off— rich, in fact, as we 
are, Bianca might wait any length of time, as far as that goes, and 
speculate upon 'Change, according to fashion ; Schoenlein, however, 
rejects the idea flatly, by saying that one wants a partner for a large 
enterprise at once. It may be so, after all, for what I know. Any- 
how, Bianca is bent upon residing in San Francisco. She is the ob- 
served of all observers— she is a belle ; and her bills at the White 
House — in fact, all over Kearny and Montgomery streets, prove it 
quite lucidly ; and that is all right. The opera is her bijou, and the 
opera-glass a companion which she does not permit to leave her a 
minute. 

(Suddenly rising, and ringing a little silver bell, Mrs. Senator 
Schoenlein continued ) — I have made up my mind. 

Julia enters (knocking)— Madam, what do you wish ? 

Mrs. Senator Schoenlein— Be pleased to tell Miss Bianca that I 
wish to see her. 

Julia (exit) — 

Mrs. Senator Schoenlein stepping to the bureau, opens it and takes from it an etui 
and a letter, which latter she peruses. 

Bianca, softly entering, approaches her mother like a will o' ,the wisp, and says 
affectionately : 

Dear mother, what do you desire ? 

Mrs. Senator Schoenlein (seriously)— Child, neither do I command 
you, nor do I beg of you to accept those diamonds, but to simply esti- 
mate the value which the gift has got for you. 

Bianca (in ecstacy, ejaculating)— My dear, own mother, is Lucky 
the gallant one ? 

Mrs. Senator Schoenlein (touched to the quick) looks at her in astonishment; but 
Bianca does not give her time to answer, continuing: 

Believe me, dear mother, diamonds are worth a great deal to all 
people, including myself. 

Mrs. Senator Schoenlein (seriously)— Are you speaking from your 
hearty and have you seriously reflected upon what you have just said ! 

Bianca — What heart could remain calm at this moment, and what 
lady find time to reflect much? 

Mrs. Senator Schoenlein— Listen to me Bianca, you had better cease 
to think dolefully of Edwin, and begin to act sensibly, by substitut- 
3 



18 

ing Mr. Lucky for him, then you may commence at once to rise con- 
spicuously upon the horizon of fashion. Here, please read this 
letter. 

Bianca (embracing her mother, and kissing her fondly) said, after a glance over the 
letter: 

Dearest mother! I am convinced that Lucky is not bad — only odd. 
Edwin is good, but acts strangely because he never yet surprised me 
with diamonds; but this is not at all the point. I'll tell you what 
vexes me. Think of it! he prefers traveling among the Alps of Switz- 
erland with scions of the British nobility, instead of with me on Lake 
Tahoe. 

Mrs. Senator Schoenlein — I see you are a wife born for a broker; 
to-day rich, to-morrow poor. If your husband fails in business, you 
fail too. What are the odds ? But should you, in such a dilemma, be 
deprived of his love, and entirely through his own weakness, then 
come your trials, although an all-wise Providence and your future 
remain to you. 

Bianca — Father has made ample inquiries. The acquaintances of 
Mr. Lucky, and his credit are excellent, his wealth in stocks large, in 
fact there is nothing that I know, which might be viewed as an objec- 
tion. His life is the exchange, and in the afternoon the Cliff House, 
where he enjoys himself in a forlorn manner, by watching the dash of 
the surf, and the huge sea lions tumbling off the rocks into the briny 
deej). Evenings he plays chess, at which scientific game father says 
he is very skillful, and which proves incontestibly that he is accus- 
tomed to think clearly and deeply; also does he read much, and 
good authors only, being of opinion that a person who writes an en- 
tertaining book guarantees to one, by what he therein relates, a pleas- 
ant evening. Ma, for that he is a bachelor and ought to be excused; 
shouldn't he ? I think I can love that man, and he too is so quick 
about it. 

Mrs. Senator Schoenlein — Prizes and blanks. So with marriage. 
Life is influenced manifoldly. For instance, what we call future 
this side of demise, is nothing more than our sensible acting during 
the presence of life after it has duly arrived. In the past of yester- 
day you didn't know the declaration of love and marriage of to-day, 
as accompanied by a gift which does not reasonably permit you to 
doubt its sincerity. Exactly so with sorrow. What interests Mr. 
Lucky in you so much that, in case you should marry him, you ought 
to endeavor to preserve for him, and you will have no sorrows to 
lament, because, quite simply you do not afford his love an opportu- 
nity of diminishing in rapture, and as long as man himself does not 



19 

sink in his own estimation of a gentleman, you may firmly rely upon 
him, that he loves as devotedly, sacrificingly and truly, as the lady 
does whose duty as a wife it is to confide in her husband. 

Bianca. Dearest mother, I pretty nearly comprehend what you 
say. The presence everything — the future nothing at all besides 
simply the presence absorbs all my time. As Lucky assures me upon 
his word of honor that he loves me, and says he would be altogether 
inconsolable if I did not love him in return, moreover, accompanies 
his flattering sentiments in so tangible and binding a manner I think, 
honor bright, that I am in duty bound to accept his love and feel so 
really. As to Edwin he talks love beautifully in phrases, there is no 
doubt of it, accompanied by allegorical pictures made very enticing, 
but does not accompany his assurances either by himself personally, 
or by souvenirs of a riveting kind, so that I do prefer those set 
diamonds to the New Mexican ones as inconvertible into substantial 
love or pocket money either. 

Mrs. Senator Schoenlein — Settled, and right. You marry Mr. 
Lucky, don't you ? 

Bianca — Yes, dear mother, with your and father's permission. 

Suddenly embracing her mother, and nestling her beautiful little head upon her 
heart she sighs: 

Oh! mother! I cannot leave you. 

Mrs. Senator Schoenlein — My child, don't. 

Bianca, kissing the mother passionately, appears suddenly quite shocked, saying: 

Oh ! mother ! shall I tell you something ? this Mr. Lucky uses 
tobacco. 

Mrs. Senator Schoenlein. — Bianca ! I beg of you, don't be child- 
ish, and make yourself ridiculous at this moment. Did you ever ! 
Tobacco ! Why, do you suppose man is a Bactrian camel, that trav- 
erses the desert ? The use of tobacco — all you have to do is to wean 
him from it. You may well console yourself that Mr. Lucky lives 
generally genteelly, which his appearance best guarantees. As long 
as a gentleman does not appear in public with decay upon his visage 
and in his wardrobe, the world is always charitable enough to think 
that he is getting along in it the best way he can. Of small vices, 
everybody has got one or more. Whatever the civilization of the age 
has legitimately introduced to be partaken of, is there for universal 
benefit, and to be used in a moderate manner, as a matter of course. 



20 

No more can a person exist on bread and water only, than he can 
on love. Ours is a free and rich country, in which everybody does as 
he likes, and sound sense surely gets the better of wisdom. 

Aunt Gutig (stepping into the room) — And I tell you, Bianca, 
never forget that this is a free country, where women have their rights 
as well as men ; and that, whether head or hand work, we require but 
one thing, and that is, that every one couverts personally the little he 
knows into money. 

The land of ancestry we have left behind, of yore. We ennoble 
ourselves, and don't allow anj one else to do it for us. Proofs ' end- 
less of this are exhibited in our universal affluence and happiness. 
All civilization emanates from gentility, and gentility from refine- 
ment ; so it is the inward, decorous feeling of delicacy, with which 
we think and act, that leads to happiness. Therefore the feeling of 
charity, which is refinement practiced in life, and without which gen- 
tility is incomplete, pervades all civilization, and is the pivot of our 
glorious institutions. Remark, it costs nothing to be good ; further- 
more, that civilization has but one aim, which is, to make every one 
so good. The gift of life is heavenly and free. To be thoroughly 
charitable, decorous, and genteel, is to rejoice at the happiness, the 
luck, the wealth of others, without being envious ; as well as to vol- 
untarily commiserate with the poor and needy, by word and deed. It 
is liberty republicanized, personal freedom publicly and privately ap- 
plied. 

In this manner, you select your own friends by your own choice ; 
and so others have got the same rights and privileges. Everybody to 
his taste. The happiness of one is subordinate to the happiness of 
all whom the American flag covers ; in fact, the principle includes all 
mankind, as redeemable to civilivation, for ages to come. Our oath is 
eternal ; there is no renegading from it, lest the unhappy individual 
be afflicted with an unsound mind. 

Our progress, therefore, is constant, universal, and indissoluble, 
like the Union which guarantees the very permanency of its blessings 
to us ; while, at the same time, it encourages the civilized world at 
large to follow our example, in order to fulfill its destiny. 

So be pleased, Bianca, to observe, that charity is the nucleus of 
all civilization. Your marriage is a charitable act. The marriage of 
every one — for instance, your maid servant, the poor emigrant 
who came here to serve you in order to save her earnings, to do what ? 
to marry — for which she is born ; and whose children may some day 
occupy higher positions than, possibly, your own. 



21 

My dear Bianca, that is what we understand by the universal 
Yankee nation ; personified independence, leading to individual hap- 
piness and collective liberty, to be enjoyed for ever. 

(Julia enters slowly, and hands a visiting-card to Mrs. Senator Schoenlein.) 

Mrs. Senator Schoenlein (with one look upon the card) — Oh, Ju- 
lia ! be cpiick ! conduct the gentleman here. 

Do you, Bianca ! remain here. 

(Hurrying towards the door, opening it widely, she almost immediately observed 

Mr. Lucky.) 

Oh, my dearest friend ! a hearty welcome ! I am so glad to see 

you ! 

(Offering her hand to him, she said ): 

Pray be seated — here, near me, if you please. 

(Pointing to an arm-chair.) 

And now, my dear friend, please tell me all about it — the excitement 
at the Exchange, to Avhich you refer in your letter, you know, in re- 
gard to the newly-discovered diamond field. Where was it ? I forgot. 
New Mexico, wasn't it? Is it really so — a fixed fact ? 

Heronimus Lucky (in white vest, elegantly attired a la Steil of the 
Occidental, having taken a seat near Mrs. Senator Schoenlein, said) 
— Madam ! there can be no doubt any longer ; the diamonds are 
there. The commencement is made. The stock is going up. 

(Drawing forth a small pocket-book, he said, as he handed certain papers to the 

lady) : 

And this small item — may it please you, Madam, to accept these 
shares as a token of my sincere regard for yourself and family, and 
the earnestness with which I humbly trust you will be pleased to re- 
ceive my attentions to your daughter. 

(Bowing, he added) : 

It is everywhere so viewed, if we brokers present stock we are in 
earnest. We try to manifest oar sincerity by it. 

Mrs. Senator Schoenlein — My dear Lucky ! Upon the name of 
Bianca ? 

(Bianca, standing in the bow window, appears greatly agitated — blushes abundantly, 
while she looks toward Mr. Lucky, who is approaching her. ) 

Heronimus Lucky — My dearest Bianca ! I could not possibly 
pacify my heart, which yearned to strew joy upon your path of life ; 
so I pictured you to myself as a rose, Avhich, before dawn of day, is 
beloved and adorned by dew-drops. 



22 

Biahca (slowly reaching out her hand to Mr. Lucky) — Friend ! from 
my heart, let me thank you ; and, as a rose diffuses its sweet odor 
until it is no more, so long shall I happily remember you. 

Lucky (kissing her hand passionately, quite beside himself) — Oh 
Bianca ! How shall I adequately express niy love for you in words ? 

Bianca — Love is always meagre of words ; rich it is in sweetness 
and in strength ; it is life. 

Luoky (sinks down upon his knees before her)— Then, please take 



Bianca — Rise, Heronimus! Your life I shall deprive you of? 
shall make me miserable ! shall be your death ! [throwing herself into 
his arms.] Every minute I shall count; every kiss put to account, 
shall make you happy, make you live forever. 

While both lovers were keeping books on joint account by double-entry, Senator 
Schoenlein makes his appearance suddenly. 

Mrs. Senator Schoenlein (observing her husband entering the 
room, winks lively and on tiptoe, lisps) — Engaged ! 

Bianca (recognizing her father, disentwines herself softly from the 
embrace of Heronimus, and flies toward her father) — Alas, my father! 
my dear father, how can I ever part from you ? 

Senator Schoenlein — My sweetest child, it is bitter to part from 
what we love ; but it is the course the world takes ; how shall it exist 
otherwise ? I bless you. [Kisses Bianca with great fervency.] 

Mr. Lucky (having drawn quietly near says) — Pardon me, Senator, 
that I have trespassed upon form and not first solicited your generous 
sanction to my marriage with your daughter. 

The Senator (shaking Heronimus cordially by the hand) — My dear 
friend, this sanction I cheerfully grant you, because I hold myself 
convinced of your love to Bianca, being altogether irresistible [laugh- 
ingly]. In fact, I can realize your position ; Mrs. Schoenlein like- 
wise. Both of us pardon gladly any little discrepancy which a loving 
heart innocently commits, having to relinquish much which the heart 
loves most, because in the happiness and welfare of children mirrors 
itself the contentment of parents. 

(Upon which colloquy, Mr. Lucky approaches Mrs. Senator Schoenlein very res- 
pectfully, and after having politely and dutifully kissed her baud, says) : — 

Dearest mother ! how shall I ever show myself worthy of so much 
kindness ? express my deep-felt gratitude to you ? 



23 

Mks. Senator Schoenlein (reaching out both her hands to Heroni- 
mus) — My friend ! esteem Bianca, while you love her, and your hap- 
piness will be permanent. In that manner Cupid strews his joys for- 
ever from his panacopia called Civilization. Mutual attention keeps 
alive love's constant yearnings. Delicacy and attention assure nuptial 
bliss through life. The policy you can easily pay ; love is rich, vic- 
torious and eternal. 

Aunt Gutig — And, my friend, never go to Europe. You absolutely 
learn nothing there which is good for a philanthropist and republican. 
If you want to roam, prefer the many charming springs of Eureka, 
and her lakes and mountain scenery so incomparably lovely ; and if 
that is not enough for you, go to the Yosemite Valley, or ascend still 
higher Mounts Shasta, Hood, Whitney or St. Helens, and you have all 
the Mont Blancs of the Swiss Alps you can possibly need ; always 
provided Bianca permits you to risk your dear life upon any such ele- 
vated adventures. 

(Julia enters with a visiting card, which she approaches Mrs. Senator Schoenlein 
with.) 

Mrs. Senator Schoenlein (aloud) — A visit ; a Mr. A. Emsig. 

Heronimus Lucky (frightened) — Oh, my friend Emsig, whom I have 
altogether forgotten at the Hotel. 

Mrs. Senator Schoenlein — Julia, please be quick, conduct the gen- 
tleman here. 

( Mr. Lucky hastening toward the door to meet the gentleman, first says, while Mr. 
Emsig enters.) 

Oh, in my joy I have forgotten you altogether. Pray, do pardon 
me. 

Mr. Emsig (bowing in all directions) — Ladies and Gentlemen, I 
beg your pardon for this intrusion, I was inconsolable in regard to 
my friend. 

(Bianca advances toward Mr. Emsig.) 

Bianca — That is my fault, sir. 

Mr. Emsig (bowing) — Then Miss Schoenlein (I suppose I have the 
honor of addressing Miss Schoenlein) I have every reason to be jeal- 
ous. 

(Mr. Lucky instantaneously introducing Mr. Emsig to the ladies separately and the 
Senator. ) 



Mr. Emsig, my most intimate friend. 



24 

(Mr. Erasig bows gracefully to each lady and the Senator — Mr. Lucky continuing to 
introduce. ) 

And to you, niy friend, nry bride and her generous parents. 

(Mr. Emsig very politely saluting, and beside himself with joy, addresses Her- 
onimus :) 

What! you engaged! Alas! friend, let me congratulate you, most 
cordially so. How I rejoice at your happiness. 

(Suddenly serious) — And I! how I feel at this moment that I have 
made a terrible faux pas of not having married. Have you, Her- 
onimus, been hithertofore my only friend, my diversion my second 1, 
so my inanimate wealth, with its superfluous companion " ambition," 
shall henceforth vex and annoy me. "What is Croesus compared with 
a Botkschild? and what am I, after all, compared with Croesus V That 
is, in a few words, my grief exposed in all its labyrinthian vastness; it 
lays bare the ominous fact that there is no end to ambition. In the 
mean time I don't know that I am happy, don't feel that I have 
every reason to be so; my heart beats so lonely and is so sad. 

Mr. Emsig (taking both hands of v Heronimus) said — And now tell 
me once more; tell it me seriously and irrevocably, are you engaged? 

Heronimus Lucky (quietly) — Yes, my friend. 

Mr. Emsig — Then, my friend, my dear friend, which you are, 
obey, I beg of you. I shall make you a present of my new house 
near Lake Merritt, which, by-the-by, is the handsomest of all the 
palaces which constitute that patrician quarter, as so superbly de- 
signed by the original owner of that paradisiacal neighborhood ; and 
you agree to accept it as a lasting token of my friendship to you, 
while I go traveling for years to come, and you do not dissuade me 
from it. In your sanction, rests the sincerity of my friendship . 

Mr. Lucky (shaking the hand of Mr. Emsig, says, with great em- 
phasis) — Friend, you are beyond precedent kind and generous ; per- 
mit me to thank you a thousand times. As you honor friendship, so 
I shall honor and love you, next to my Bianca, as the principal guar- 
dian of my happiness. 

Mr. Emsig (solemnly) — My friend, you are now aware that I have 
got heart enough to wish you the blessings of Heaven ; but you must 
know that I feel so sad, that I beg of you not to feel offended, if my 
appearance does not quite correspond with my sentiments. I feel it 
really too deeply that, with all my wealth, I cannot pacify my heart; 
being annoyed at having to die intestate. Besides, time presses 
heavily upon me, as usual, and I must now be back to San Francisco. 



25 

Aunt Gtutig — Pardon me, sir. Your frankness has quite touched 
me. If you please, listen to what I shall tell you, and then take due 
note of it. 

Inasmuch as there never was yet a speculation without hope, and 
just as sure and certain as everyone meets with losses in life, so I pre- 
dict to you that you will lose your heart. Then you shall have found 
your own happiness fully provided for by the double wealth of con- 
tentment and ease, at the cheerful fireside of your own comfortable 
and sweet home. 

Mr. Emsio (bowing) — My dear madame, you will perhaps be 
pleased to give me credit for politeness, if I do not in the least doubt 
that you are — upon the subject of terrestrial happiness — the most en- 
lightened and far-seeing lady whom I ever have had the honor of being 
introduced to, and that I consequently agree with you perfectly as to 
what would become of me, if I were impecunious to-day. Of course, 
I would strive to find the wealth of love, and try it for once and for- 
ever to base my sole happiness upon it ; but as life appears to me too 
short now for such a radical state of things generally, and also Cupid, 
I dare say, has long ago passed in my direction, I fear that it will be 
but a stray humming-bird, and nothing else, my visits to friends and 
the club excepted, which shall henceforth enliven and divert me in 
my lonely hours, when in my conservatory, sipping my coffee, inhaling 
my Havana, and reading Krause's effusions of love. 

Mrs. Senator Schoenlein — Impossible, that in this storm, you can 
safely return to San Francisco. Excuse me, sir ; none of us could 
possibly permit it. 

(The curtain falls.) 

Oakland, October 10, 1872. 
4 






Igjjjf! 1 



M^ 



